


Put a bird on it and call it art

by whetherwoman



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Clarke's Third Law, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, It's not magic it's technology, Magical Artifacts, Melinda May is suspicious of you, Melinda May is the smartest one on this bus, Portland Oregon, Svartalfar, Women Being Awesome, fart jokes, making fun of Portland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that an episode of Portlandia?” Skye blurted.</p><p>“Just background research,” Coulson said with dignity. “I encourage you all to do a little research of your own before we land. We want to make sure we’re correctly identifying any alien occurrences, not targeting any normal activity.”</p><p>“Sir, with all respect,” Simmons said, “from what I know about Portland, the activity in these videos seems rather like typical behavior. Is there other information that requires SHIELD’s involvement?”</p><p>“Yes, actually,” Coulson said, and shut all the visuals with a swipe. “An old friend gave us a call.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put a bird on it and call it art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aishuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/gifts).



> There's a tiny reference to _Thor: The Dark World_ , which I have not actually seen, so I apologize if I got anything wrong.
> 
> Thank you so much to lightwalker for cheerleading and telling me I wasn't entirely insane. And to Elfwreck, who deserves all the good things in the world for the amazing last minute beta-ing and link to the technobabble generator. <3

The team was gathered together in the briefing room of the bus. Skye was twirling her hair absently, watching her teammates while waiting for Coulson to start the meeting. Ward was leaning back on the couch, one leg up and one arm over the back, the picture of relaxation unless you knew that he didn’t usually have those tense wrinkles around his eyes. Skye wondered if he knew it added at least ten years to his age, then wondered if he even cared like a normal person. May was standing in the corner with her arms crossed, of course, looking like she could comfortably wait forever for anything interesting to happen. Fitz and Simmons had brought some sort of doohicky that they were doing a terrible job hiding under the table, whispering to each other in what they probably thought was a secretive way.

Coulson cleared his throat. Fitz dropped the whatever it was under the table, causing a loud beep and a puff of smoke. He turned red and quickly put his hands on the table, while Simmons said brightly, “That was nothing! It’s not a problem.”

“Right,” Coulson said. “I’d like your attention on our current mission, please. We’re headed to the Pacific Northwest, and specifically to Portland, Oregon. We’ve got reports of some strange occurrences, so we’re going to need to play it by ear and try not to draw attention.”

“Cause we’re the stealthiest team SHIELD’s got,” Skye muttered, then wondered whether or not she was being sarcastic. 

“What kind of reports, sir?” Ward asked, blatantly ignoring Skye.

“The usual,” Coulson said, pulling up a spread of videos and pictures—a crowd of naked bicyclists, goats and chickens roaming freely through urban streets, a statue clothed in a tremendously ugly knit sweater, a man in a on a unicycle with a Darth Vader mask and a bagpipe, and—

“Is that an episode of Portlandia?” Skye blurted.

“Just background research,” Coulson said with dignity. “I encourage you all to do a little research of your own before we land. We want to make sure we’re correctly identifying any alien occurrences, not targeting any normal activity.”

“Sir, with all respect,” Simmons said, “from what I know about Portland, the activity in these videos seems rather like typical behavior. Is there other information that requires SHIELD’s involvement?”

“Yes, actually,” Coulson said, and shut all the visuals with a swipe. “An old friend gave us a call.”

***

“Oh, I’m not a professor anymore,” Elliot Randolph said. He was sitting on a couch old enough that the springless cushions tilted him slightly to the right, and had to raise his voice over the constant hiss of the espresso machine. The beard was new, but didn’t actually change his appearance much—he still pushed all of Skye’s sleeze buttons. “I have an adjunct position at Portland State University in the history department, of course, but they’ll never call me in to teach a class.”

“So what keeps you busy?” Coulson leaned forward, looking perfectly at ease with his triple Americano balanced on his knee.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. I’m a regular at several open mic nights, and I’m not bad if I say so myself.” He smiled disarmingly, leaning confidingly towards Simmons. “I’ve been thinking of publishing, even.”

“Oh?” Simmons said politely, and took a sip of her espresso. “Wouldn’t that make it a bit difficult to stay under the radar?”

“Well, yes,” Elliot said, leaning back and making a face. “I suppose I probably won’t. It was a nice thought, though. Everyone’s been so complimentary about my epic poetry. Inspired by experience, you know.” He raised his eyebrows and took a large, crumbly bite of his scone.

“So you called us because something is going on?” Ward cut in. He hadn’t ordered anything. Probably because he was ready to kill everyone in the coffeeshop or protect the team from evil creamer or something like that, Skye thought resentfully, taking a big sip of her totally delicious triple white chocolate hazelnut mocha.

“Mm! Yes!” Elliot said, hastily swallowing his scone. “Yes, absolutely! I trust you to deal with this quietly, of course. I don’t want any credit for finding her, just keep my name out of it.”

“Her?” Fitz said, suspiciously. 

“Yes,” Elliot said. His voice dropped, and everyone leaned in a little. “You see, there’s a svartalf here.”

Skye snorted before she could help herself, then coughed to try and cover it as Ward jabbed her in the side. “A, uh, svartalf?” she said carefully, trying not to laugh.

“Yes,” said Elliot. “One of the dark elves, escaped from Svartalfheim and trying to live among humans. Ordinarily I’d feel quite sympathetic, actually. She seems to feel very much the same way I do, loves Earth and humans, doesn’t want to go back to her old life, etcetera etcetera. The problem is, she’s making _things_.” He paused meaningfully.

Skye looked carefully around the group. Ward and Coulson had their game faces on, of course, so who knew what they thought, but Fitz was trying way too hard to look like he knew what Elliot meant, and Simmons looked just plain puzzled. Okay, Skye thought, time to take one for the team, and asked, “What’s wrong with that? Making things?”

“Well,” said Elliot, clearly dropping into professor mode, “the svartalfar have always been master craftsmen. They made most of the treasures of Asgard, actually, including Thor's hammer Mjolnir. Very skilled in both metalwork and magic.”

“Or technology we simply don’t have a way to measure or understand yet,” Simmons cut in.

Ward elbowed her too.

“The problem is,” Elliot continued, “the making process is not something the svartalfar can control. The magic is as normal to them as the metalwork.” 

“Except in a much more scientifically explicable way,” Simmons muttered into her cup.

“So they have to put, er, magic into whatever they make?” Fitz said loudly. Simmons shot him a betrayed look, which he resolutely ignored. “They can’t just make a ring, they have to make a magic ring?”

“Exactly,” Elliot said, pointing his scone at Fitz. “You’ve hit the nail on the head. This svartalf is putting humans in danger, unintentional though it may be, because she can’t keep from making objects that rightly belong in the hands of gods, not mortals.”

“So where did you find this svartalf?” Coulson said. Skye noticed that his cup was empty, although she could have sworn he never took a sip.

“Actually,” Elliot admitted, “in yoga class.”

***

The Welcome Wagon operation in the alley behind the yoga studio apparently went well, Skye thought glumly as she watched the video feed of the svartalf in the holding cell. As usual, Coulson had flatly refused to let her come along for absolutely no reason. The svartalf apparently hadn’t even been surprised to see Coulson and Ward, and had come with them quite willingly. Now she was sitting calmly at the metal desk in the holding cell. Her knit cap was sitting in front of her, leaving her large pointed ears quite visible. Skye could see how she’d managed to blend in—besides the ears she was odd-looking, but there was nothing anyone could specifically point to as inhuman. She was very tall and very muscular, and extremely pale, with dark hair cut short enough to barely cover her ears. If Skye had passed her on the street, she would have pegged her as butch, not a magical alien elf from another world.

“They’re about to begin,” Fitz said, entering behind Skye with Simmons in tow. “Turn up the sound, would you?”

“I do hope we’ll have the time to run a few extra tests before we send her back to Svartalfheim,” Simmons said, almost rubbing her hands in glee. “Coulson let Professor Randolph leave before we had the chance to do anything. It would be so fascinating to gather just a little more data about how these so-called 'magical' artifacts are created, don’t you think?”

Fitz nodded vigorously, but Skye frowned. “Shouldn’t you at least, like, ask consent before planning on turning her into your lab rat?”

“Shh!” Fitz said. “They’re starting.”

They watched the screen as Coulson and May entered the cell. May took up her position at the door, arms loose and clearly ready for anything. Coulson sat down across from the svartalf with a friendly smile.

“Thank you for agreeing to come and talk with us,” he said, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him. “I apologize for the accommodations, but given Thor’s recent difficulties with Svartalfheim I’m sure you understand.”

“I do,” she said. Her voice was low and melodious, even through the distortion of the video feed. “I bear no more love for that place than you do.”

“That’s what I was told,” Coulson said.

“Yes,” she said. “I know you spoke with Elliot Randolph, the Asgardian in hiding. I had guessed he would contact you, and I am prepared to cooperate to the best of my abilities.”

Fitz nudged Simmons. “She’s double-crossing him!” he said in a loud whisper. Simmons only flapped a hand at him, eyes riveted on the screen.

“—tell us?” Coulson was saying. The svartalf nodded, then stood up and walked a few steps away, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she turned around.

“My name is Alfrun,” she said. “I came to Earth a warrior, but that is not who I am. I am a metalworker. I was conscripted by Malekith in his insane mission, but like your friend the Asgardian, once I saw the beauties and wonders of Earth, I wanted nothing more than to stay. I was lucky enough to escape and make my way here, to Portland, to find others who have joy in the crafting of metal.” She paused, then sighed and sat down. “Where I differ from my chosen community, of course, is that I do not simply work in metal. In each object I create, I put, for lack of a better word, magic.”

Skye and Fitz both elbowed Simmons before she could say a thing.

“Unfortunately,” Alfrun continued, “this magic is not something I consciously control. It is inherent in the object itself—my process of making brings the object into existence in its truest form. This has brought Svartalfheim much fame and fortune from the great things we have made for the Asgardians, but unfortunately I have seen that humans are not capable of properly using such objects.” She sighed again. “I have caused more harm through my crafting than I did in my brief time as a warrior. Although I would love nothing more than to stay here on Earth, I can do nothing but throw myself upon your mercy.”

“I don’t buy it,” May said suddenly. Alfrun turned towards her, obviously having forgotten she was even in the room. “There’s something else going on here. Randolph may claim to be our friend, but he’s no altruist. He wouldn't have called us just to help you out. Also, I’m pretty sure that if you wanted you, you could make your own way back to Svartalfheim without SHIELD’s help. Why bring us into this?”

“The Asgardian didn’t tell you?” Alfrun looked surprised for the first time. “He didn’t want you to stop me and send me back. He wanted me to keep making things—for him.”

***

“It’s completely typical!” Fitz insisted. The team was gathered in the central briefing room again, in various states of anger, denial, or bargaining. Fitz was sitting on the very edge of the couch, gesturing emphatically with every word. “The man has done nothing but mislead us at every turn! He probably wanted something to make him more attractive, the only thing he follows is his—”

“We don’t know that!” Simmons interrupted hastily. “We only have Alfrun’s word that he asked her to make anything at all, let’s apply a _little_ scientific rigor to this process and not simply jump to conclusions.”

“Randolph hasn’t exactly proven himself trustworthy in the past,” May commented dryly, leaning against the bar. “I’m not inclined to take anything either of them says at face value.”

“Absolutely,” Ward agreed. He was pacing back and forth behind the couches. “We need to get back on track with our mission. We’re here to protect civilians, not an Asgardian or a svartalf.”

Skye couldn’t help the snort that came out. Everyone looked at her. “What?” she said. “Seriously, am I the only one who thinks that’s funny? Come on, it sounds like a, you know—” She blew a raspberry.

No one said anything.

Skye sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter who is or isn’t lying at this point, right? We still need to get back all the stuff Alfrun made, and make sure she doesn’t make anything else.”

“Right,” Coulson said, nodding at her. “One thing at a time. May and Ward, I need you out gathering Alfrun’s artifacts. Stay together if you can, but split up if you have to; you’ve got a lot of ground to cover. FitzSimmons, start working with Alfrun to develop something that will keep her magic out of her creations.” 

“Oh! Yes, sir!” Simmons said, too excited to object to the hated word. “Fitz, do you think some simple electromagnetic shielding would work or do we need to consider more of an alchemical reaction at the molecular level?” 

“Let’s try that calibrating device you made the other day, the one with the—” Fitz gestured in a spiraly shape.

“Oo!” Simmons said, and they rushed out of the room.

“Skye, you’ll stay here with me,” Coulson continued, smiling after the science twins. “We’ll work with Alfrun to get complete information about everything she’s made, and I’ll need you to connect to every network you know to track down current locations for May and Ward to check out. And I need you to find one more thing, as well.”

“Can do!” Skye said, wiggling her fingers. “Tracker girl, that’s me. What’s the other thing?”

“Elliot Randolph,” Coulson said. “He’s disappeared.”

***

Skye found it surprisingly easy to track down the location of Alfrun’s objects, once she figured out how to translate elf-descriptions into real things. How was she supposed to know something Alfrun called a ring could include anything from an earring to belt? But once that was out of the way, she barely had to dig deeper than Twitter and a blog or two to get a solid bead on the locations. May and Ward reported back regularly.

“We’re at the bottom of the aerial tram,” Ward announced over the comm. “I don’t see anything that looks like a metal dragonboat decal on this thing.”

“I see it,” said May.

“Wait—it’s going—” Skye heard, then Ward sighed. “She’s riding on top of the tram. I’ll just… hike up the hill, I guess.”

“Sounds good!” Skye said cheerily. “Move faster next time.” She switched channels to check in with FitzSimmons. “How’s the science going, guys?”

“Oh, very well!” Simmons said. “It’s really quite fascinating, what Alfrun does is actually create a small interdimensional singularity at the quantum level, where obviously things like molecular attraction don’t work the same way!” 

“Of course,” added Fitz, “you’d think all we need to do is put a barrier in the matter-energy system so that it’s directional, more direct current than alternating current if you will, but it’s actually much more complicated.”

“Right, you just go on and reverse the polarity then,” Skye said, and switched channels. “You there yet, Ward?”

“Yep,” Ward said, barely out of breath. “Everyone’s safely off the tram, including Ms. Daredevil here.”

“It didn’t even sway that much,” May said. “Turns out the passengers were hallucinating they were in the middle of the river, fighting a real dragon. No one had time to get more than a couple punches in, though, and at least no one had a sword this time.”

“Right,” said Skye. “Your next mission is downtown, so head down the hill again. I hear the streetcar is pretty direct, but walking might be faster. You’re looking for a staff and a trail of hairballs—whoever has it can literally herd cats.”

“On it,” May said, and Skye switched channels again.

“Any leads on Randolph?” Coulson said before she could check in on the science twins.

“Yes, actually,” Skye said, turning her laptop around to show Coulson, “but you might not like it.”

Coulson looked over her shoulder and frowned. “I see,” he said. “Well, I’ve tracked people down in more difficult locations, even if I can’t think of any off the top of my head. I’ll give it a shot—let me know if you come up with anything more specific.”

“Good luck, sir,” Skye said.

***

By the time Coulson tracked Randolph down, the whole team had completed their tasks and were back in the briefing room, clustered anxiously around Skye’s computer. Skye couldn’t pull up a visual, so all they had was the comm and the blinking dot of his GPS location.

Finally, they heard Coulson’s voice. “Hello, Elliot.”

“Damn,” they heard Elliot say. “I thought for sure that I’d be safe here of all places.”

“Not really,” Coulson said dryly. “The rare books room? It’s pretty predictable in retrospect.”

“I suppose,” Elliot said, sounding bitter. “Now you’ll drag me back to your plane and lock me up until you can convince Thor to haul me back to Asgard, of course.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” Coulson admitted. “But mostly I just want to understand. Why, Elliot? Why lie to me, and try and blackmail Alfrun? What did you want her to make for you so badly?”

They heard Elliot sigh. “I suppose I am pretty predictable. All I’ve ever wanted was anonymity, Coulson, you know that. Back in Seville, you made it very clear that you had me under your thumb. Any time I stepped out of line, you’d threaten to get Thor on the line and I’d have no choice but to roll over. That’s no way to live!”

There was silence on the line. May shifted uneasily. “He shouldn’t have gone out on his own,” she muttered.

But Elliot spoke again. “All I wanted was for Alfrun to make me something that would keep me completely hidden and out of SHIELD’s grip. When she refused, I have to admit I panicked. I know it looks like blackmail, but that wasn’t my intention. All I could think was that if I could get SHIELD after her as well, she’d understand. Then she would need anonymity as much as I do.”

Silence again. May was heading for the door when Coulson finally said, “I’m sorry, Elliot. But you’ll have to come with me now.”

***

“Where is he?” was the first thing Ward said when Coulson finally got back to the bus.

Coulson sighed and sat down on a couch, rubbing his forehead. “First, I’d like your reports, please. Skye, do we have all of Alfrun’s creations accounted for?”

“Yes,” Skye said. “Well, probably. One of them is invisible, so I can definitely say that we brought it on to the plane but I suppose it could have been moved and then I’d have no idea where it was. But I got a complete list from Alfrun, and everything on it has been put on the plane.”

“Thank you,” Coulson said. “May and Ward, any issues?”

“No, sir,” May said.

“We can also confirm that the concert of 250 tuba players in Pioneer Courthouse Square was not linked to any influence by alien technology,” added Ward.

“Good to hear,” Coulson said, cracking a smile. “FitzSimmons, you found a solution for Alfrun?”

“Yes, and it’s actually quite elegant, if I say so myself,” Fitz said.

“Fitz put together the gloves with biosensors on the inside and outside, and I actually managed to create a microscopic static quantum anomaly in the middle, which of course you would think is a contradiction, but it turns out all I had to do was properly record _everything_ Alfrun was doing on the macro _and_ micro levels, and then it was a simple matter of calibrating everything to match!” Simmons took a deep breath.

“Yes, and of course she was very grateful,” Fitz interrupted before Simmons could say anything else. “She told us she owes SHIELD a great debt now that she can continue doing her work without hurting anyone.”

“Thank you both,” Coulson said. “All right. As I’m sure you all heard, I found Elliot at Powell's Bookstore.”

“Yes and I think he’s right!” Skye burst out. “That’s no way to live, we’ve got to stop basically blackmailing him into helping us or we’re just doing the same thing he tried to do to Alfrun.”

“Absolutely not,” Ward cut in. “He’s a resource, we can’t let that go. We’re trying to keep the whole world safe, and sometimes that means we don’t let everyone get what they personally want just because they want it.”

“Could we keep him on the plane?” Simmons said brightly. “We learned so much from studying Alfrun but of course it was a bit of a slapdash job considering the timeline.”

“He’s not a lab rat, he’s a person!” Skye protested.

“I let Elliot go,” said Coulson.

Everyone stopped talking.

“I let Elliot go,” Coulson repeated, “and told him that SHIELD wouldn’t be tracking him any more.”

“Sir,” May said, “are you sure that’s a good idea?” She looked like a coiled spring, ready to run out the door and hunt Elliot to the ground with one word from Coulson.

“Yes,” said Coulson. “SHIELD will not be tracking Elliot Randolph from now on. Alfrun, however, will.” He examined his fingernails and looked, Skye thought, excessively smug. “She did owe us a debt for her new gloves, after all. She’ll be sending us regular reports on his location and activities.”

“You,” said Skye, “have secretly been an evil mastermind all along.”


End file.
